


Futures Forged in Fire

by yumbledore



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Godric's Hollow, M/M, Smoking, Visions, grindelwald's skull hookah, teenage grindeldore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21921637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumbledore/pseuds/yumbledore
Summary: Before the summer of 1899, Gellert has visions of Albus. Grindeldore Holiday Exchange gift for IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38
Collections: Grindeldore Holiday Exchange 2019





	Futures Forged in Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis/gifts).



> For IhaveAbadfeelingAboutThis! :)

With a brush of red and a brief flicker of blue, Gellert woke up. Eyes still closed, he twisted and turned on his side, frowned, and sat up. Blinking into the darkness, he tried to remember, but it was like holding handfuls of sand. The slow ticking from the clock on his bedside table and the soft snores of the other boys in the dormitory finally lulled him back to sleep.

The next time it happened, Gellert was weighing beetle eyes in Potions class. The vision came to him as a kaleidoscope of green and brown and gray and – a strange triangle, auburn locks gleaming in the sunlight, the flicker of intelligent blues and a bouquet of white carnations.

Gellert’s hand jerked, sending the black pebbles flying all over his desk and the floor. Some of his classmates snickered. Annoyed, the vision already half-forgotten, Gellert reached for his wand and thought of ways to get back at them later, somewhere removed, far from the watchful eyes of his teachers.

-

The vision appeared frequently, new details emerging every time. All too often, he’d close his eyes and let his mind linger on mischievously twinkling blues gazing back at him.

Gellert couldn’t wrap his head around why anyone would want to give him flowers that – according to _The Dream Oracle_ – symbolize love. What was harder to figure out was the meaning of the triangle with the circle and vertical line. He ended up doodling it everywhere – on his notes, his bedposts, the back of his hand. Gellert spent hours researching the symbol in the library before he came across the name Peverell.

-

Expelled, as if he cared. Gellert firmly believed sin to be in the eye of the beholder.

No matter – now he could really focus on his goals and carve out a path for himself, with no rules or restrictions holding him back. He engraved his symbol into a wall on his way out, as a lasting reminder; _Gellert Grindelwald was here, and he will achieve greatness._

-

He found himself on the threshold of his great-aunt’s home in Britain, welcomed with open arms. Omitting half the reason for his visit, he told her that he’s interested in wizarding history and that he’d like to study some of her research. Aunt Bathilda owned a vast collection of books, copies of old scriptures and a magical typewriter. While she was happy to have him there – as evidenced by the home-baked goods she showered him with – most of her time was dedicated to penning a book with the title _A History of Magic_ , which was more than fine by Gellert, who preferred working alone. Bathilda vaguely mentioned introducing him to some neighbor, but Gellert didn’t really listen as he was busy skimming through a moldy book about wand lore.

He already knew, of course, that one of the Peverell brothers was buried in Godric’s Hollow and was more than excited to explore the headstone for clues. (Maybe he’d find some detail that would help lead him to the Elder Wand – unquestionably the most powerful hallow of them all.)

On the second day of his visit, he slipped outside and headed towards the church in the center of the small village. It was a very sunny day, unlike the day of his arrival, and Gellert cherished the smell of petrichor and the flora of Britain – sturdy tree trunks with deep green crowns of leaves, whispering in the summer breeze. As far north as Durmstrang, the trees had been all pine.

From the church, he very easily found his way to the graveyard. Peverell’s grave was overgrown with weeds, and he nearly walked past it before noticing the faint symbol carved into the headstone. The name Ignotus Peverell was chipped and faded, and then there was nothing else. Gellert studied the sides of the headstone, kneeling down in front of it to run his hands over the surface in the search for hidden compartments.

Just as he was pondering about coming back later at night to get a more thorough look six feet under, his neck prickled with a strange sense of déjà vu. Gellert swiveled his head to the side, and _there_.

Walking towards him – auburn hair glinting in the sunlight, white carnations in his hands and a pair of unmistakable blue eyes. The second they met his, Gellert was flooded with a hundred new, animated visions that almost knocked the breath out of his lungs in in their vastness and clarity. Years flickered before his eyes in a rapid-fire fashion, and Gellert would’ve felt faint if it weren’t for the lightning bolt that this person – this boy – was exactly what he had been waiting for all along.

Gellert stood up, and something inscrutable flittered over the boy’s face as he drew to his full height. They were about equal in size.

“Are you looking for something?” the boy asked. His melodic voice practically skirted the edges of familiar at this point.

Gellert’s eyes stayed fixed on his face, mapping out the details. His heart leapt up to his throat. The occasional random epiphany of knowing what the future held could be overwhelming at times, but this was a flash forward far beyond anything Gellert had ever experienced before. His visions had never been this sharp and vivid, and the longer he looked at the boy, the clearer they seemed to become. All the puzzle pieces – all the resonances of the future – were clicking into place.

Eventually, Gellert’s staring embarrassed the boy, who started blushing. Gellert’s eyes slid askance, heat crawling up his neck as well. He quickly looked back, however, and gave the stranger his full, unrestrained smile – the one that charmed everyone he aimed it at.

“Not… not anymore,” Gellert answered, truthfully; blissfully aware of the future that would stretch out between them. He cleared his throat.

The boy seemed surprised and perhaps a bit curious by his answer, judging by the faint eyebrow raise. Ironically, it was hard for Gellert to read the stranger’s face as they studied each other. He finally nodded at Gellert and cast a quick glance at the Peverell tombstone before walking on, the bouquet still clutched to his chest. An unmistakable piece of wood stuck out of his back pocket.

Gellert crouched back down and pretended to be studying the headstone while actually observing the boy who stopped a few rows from him to put down his bouquet and pay his respects. When he left, he threw one quick look back at Gellert over his shoulder. Transfixed, Gellert followed him with his eyes until he disappeared out of sight.

As no one else was around, Gellert rushed to the headstone with the white carnations. He read the name Dumbledore (hadn’t his aunt talked about a Dumbledore?) and immediately apparated back to his aunt’s house.

-

Albus blew smoke out of Gellert’s skull pipe and watched as a cloud of formless gray billowed out in front of them. Gellert only ever had eyes for Albus, but his hands reached for the pipe. Their fingers brushed in the exchange and Albus shot him a coy look that sent a thrill down Gellert’s spine. 

Gellert walked into the middle of the barn, holding the skull in one hand and the pipe in the other. He turned to Albus and nervously wet his lips. “Watch this,” he told him before inhaling and then shrouding the space between them with a swell of smoke.

The first vision showed Albus nudging Gellert’s shoulder and frantically pointing at what they had been searching for. Gellert seized the Elder Wand, and the both of them rushed toward the window, fleeing from approaching footsteps. A man burst into the room, stopping dead in his tracks. Crouched at the window, they both threw a look back at his shocked expression. Albus grabbed Gellert’s hand, and with identical, triumphant smirks, they jumped into the night.

Albus, a few years older, tapped his wand on the moss-grown door of a decayed house. Gellert opened it from the other side, his face ashen.

“Well?” Albus asked anxiously.

Gellert knelt down and presented him with a ring. Wordlessly, Albus let Gellert slip it onto his ring finger. Holding his hand up to the bright daylight streaming in from behind him, Albus marveled over the contrasting dark gleam of the resurrection stone.

A meeting in Nurmengard. Albus, worn-out, looked up from his end of the table when Gellert swept into the room, a black cloak rippling in his wake. All the acolytes seated around him begun to scramble out of their seats, but Gellert held up a placating hand. He stood opposite Albus, clutching the back of a chair. A tense silence fell around the room. Everyone held their breath.

Gellert’s lip curled theatrically. “The British ministry has fallen,” he announced. Deaf to the explosion of cheers around the room, Gellert’s focus was on the beaming smile blooming from the corners of Albus’s mouth and the indescribable emotion dancing in the blue enamel of his eyes.

A thousand shared looks flittered between them, lingering for moments longer on a future of Albus caressing Gellert’s face before leaning in close.

The cloud of visions faded, the smoke between them dissolving and revealing Albus’s stunned expression on the other side.

“Albus,” Gellert said, throat dry. “I see a future with you.”

Albus opened and closed his mouth a few times before smiling.

Gellert took a step closer, insistent. “We’re meant to be together. We’re going to find the hallows, and we’re going to- “

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“Marry me,” Albus repeated, closing the gap between them in two long strides. “Right now, right here.” He made an impatient sweep with his arm, a whirl of magic sending the skull and pipe in Gellert’s hands flying askance.

Gellert’s stomach swooped, his heart beating faster. He fumbled to get his wand out of his pocket so that they could begin the ritual. Neither of them noticed the sparks licking at a bale of hay in the corner of the room. It wasn’t until they had the fully formed pendant in hand that they were alerted by Aberforth’s distant screams and noticed the wall of heat forming around them.

-

In the aftermath of the fire, the fight and the explosion, Gellert struggled out on shaky legs. His mind was doing dangerous things, and he fought to pull himself back to the present. Albus was right behind him, distraught. 

“No, please!” he begged, his broken voice cracking terribly.

Gellert swirled around, expression hard. “Are you coming, or are you staying?”

Silent tears trickled down Albus’s cheeks, chest heaving with suppressed sobs. “Please,” he pleaded thickly.

New images flashed before Gellert’s eyes. An inkling of suspicion was slowly dawning on him, and as it did, his heart plummeted in his chest.

“Fine. I see how it is,” Gellert heard himself say, voice hollow and empty. His ears were roaring. Anger pushed him out of his shocked state of mind and allowed him to turn away.

“No!”

Gellert ran. 

-

It wasn’t until he found himself in an alley five streets down that he collapsed to his knees and sobbed into his hands, completely blind to his surroundings. A new reel of visions were replacing the old, his heart effectively ripping to shreds in the process. All the futures with Albus were stolen away by new flashes of information, and Gellert’s mind felt like it would implode. Nausea washed over him, and he thought he was going to be sick.

Once the wheel of fortune had settled, his new, lonesome future stretched out before him. Gellert took the pendant out of his pocket, clutching it tightly in his hand. He couldn’t help but wonder – had it all been predestined?


End file.
